


1 AM

by a_m_c_7



Series: A Slight Miscalculation [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, M/M, Romance, Sebastian Has a Crush on Jim, Sort Of, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, alcohol use, or what passes for it with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_m_c_7/pseuds/a_m_c_7
Summary: In which Sebastian contemplates his poor judgment in a bar, it starts to rain, and Jim shows up with an umbrella. Or: the story of Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty's first kiss.----It was 1 AM and Sebastian was drunk.Not a rosy-cheeked, cheerful mood lightly-tipsy, but a slurring words, inhibition lacking, the-bartender-refused-to-serve-him-anymore properly-pissed.He hadn’t done something like this in ages ... but lately it was taking more and more effort to maintain certain important professional boundaries and it was draining his rather limited supply of sanity just to get through the day without any incidents.





	1 AM

It was 1 AM and Sebastian was drunk.

Not a rosy-cheeked, cheerful mood lightly-tipsy, but a slurring words, inhibition lacking, the-bartender-refused-to-serve-him-anymore properly-pissed.

He hadn’t done something like this in ages – well, not _ages_ ages, but not in a while and certainly less often than just after he’d been discharged from the army – but lately it was taking more and more effort to maintain certain important professional boundaries and it was draining his rather limited supply of sanity just to get through the day without any incidents. 

Living with Moriarty was about as difficult as one would expect. The man was prone to fits of extreme anger that came seemingly out of nowhere and spells of boredom cured most often by causing conflict or violence. He was disorganized and had a habit of misplacing things: Sebastian had found a phone in the refrigerator, a frying pan in the glassware cupboard, and a half-eaten apple in the bathtub. Moriarty kept extremely odd hours, if he even slept at all. So far, Sebastian had woken up in the middle of the night to his boss screaming in Russian at someone on the phone; to him throwing china at the wall; and more than once, to music playing loudly or the television on at full volume, sometimes at the same time. The consulting criminal had no respect for personal boundaries. He had rifled through the things in Sebastian’s bedroom pretty much as soon as Sebastian had moved in, and had walked in on him in the bathroom on more than one occasion. But, of course, Sebastian was not allowed to even entertain thoughts of going in Moriarty’s bedroom or office.

Sebastian could handle all of that.

What he hadn’t expected was that living in close proximity to his boss would lead him to develop some godforsaken crush on him. Sure, he’d always registered in the back of his mind that the man was attractive, but he hadn’t _fancied_ him.

The worst thing, though, was that despite Sebastian’s best efforts to hide his ridiculous attraction to his boss, the little bastard seemed to _know_ – and enjoy using it for his own amusement. Sebastian didn’t know if Moriarty actually reciprocated his interest, but the man had taken quite the liking to what Sebastian could only describe as blatantly flirting with him. Now, it wasn’t as if Moriarty had never sent remarks that could be interpreted as flirtatious his way in the past, but Sebastian knew he wasn’t unique in being on the receiving end of such comments: he’d seen Moriarty act the same way with other people when it suited his aims. But lately Moriarty’s remarks to Sebastian had been much more targeted, more frequent, more obvious. And after every one, Sebastian would have to pause to collect himself while Moriarty watched on with a delighted, slightly sadistic expression with which Sebastian was now very familiar. And then the exchange would be forgotten entirely, Moriarty returning to a business-like professionalism with a speed that left Sebastian struggling to catch up.   

And all this would be _fine_ , really, if Sebastian knew for sure what exactly Moriarty was intending. If he wanted to flirt with Sebastian simply to entertain himself…well, he could do what he pleased. But Moriarty was hard to read, and at this point Sebastian just wasn’t sure where they stood, what Moriarty wanted him to do, and whether he was more likely to be stabbed in the eye with a fork for _making_ a move or for _not_ making one.

Long story short: Sebastian was getting very, very tired of all the fucking mind games. It felt like he was taking an exam he didn’t know any of the answers to. And failure meant grievous bodily harm.

Plus it was getting increasingly difficult to focus on his actual job of protecting his psycho of a boss, who seemed to make a new enemy every day. This was exactly why business and pleasure shouldn’t mix. Especially when the nature of the business meant that mistakes got you killed.

Sebastian knew he should get out of this situation he’d managed to get himself into. He was even pretty sure he could still quit without receiving a retirement package that consisted of a bullet to the head. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. He _liked_ working for Moriarty, despite the fact that it was a resoundingly bad idea. He _liked_ having a boss whose moods were dangerously unpredictable, who killed people just because he “felt like it,” who could decide to do the same thing to Sebastian at a moment’s notice. He fucking _liked_ Moriarty.

Well, Sebastian’s father always scolded him for his lack of self-preservation. Guess this was just one more example of his stupidity to add to the list.

“Closing time, luv.”

Sebastian looked up at the bartender, a red-haired woman who was looking at him with a worried expression on her round face. He waved her off, not bothering with politeness, and stood up. The room only spun a little, which he supposed wasn’t too bad all things considered.

It was raining outside, just his luck. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and started walking as quickly as he could manage, which at the moment wasn’t very. He felt about as coordinated as a newborn giraffe.

“Sebastian—“

Sebastian whirled around, his vision going blurry. He blinked and Moriarty swam into focus. The man was wearing his usual posh suit and holding an umbrella that was, for some reason, neon green.

“Christ,” Sebastian breathed out. “Do you ever sleep?”

Moriarty raised a manicured eyebrow. “ _You’re_ awake.”

Sebastian sighed. “Fair enough. What’re you doing here?”

Moriarty shrugged.

Sebastian groaned and ran his hand down his face. “ _You_ gave me the night off. Can’t you just piss off and leave me alone for one bloody second?”

If Moriarty was at all surprised by Sebastian’s burst of impertinence, he didn’t show it.

“No? Fine.” Sebastian pushed his wet hair off his forehead. “Do you at least have another umbrella? I’m getting fucking drenched.” Apparently his verbal filter had gone on holiday.

“Just the one, I’m afraid.” Moriarty glanced at the umbrella above his head. “We could share.” The exaggerated, over-the-top flirtation in his voice bordered on mocking.

Sebastian took a deep breath, then huffed out a frustrated laugh. “Sure. Whatever.” He stepped forward, close enough into Moriarty’s space that the umbrella shielded them both from the rain. “We’ll share.”

Moriarty met Sebastian’s eyes, titling his chin up a bit to compensate for their slight height difference. “There. Problem solved.”

“Yep.”

They held each other’s gazes for a long, silent moment.

“What now?” Moriarty said eventually.

Sebastian faltered. “I…”

Moriarty widened his eyes in faux concern. “Oh dear. You were so confident a moment ago.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Sebastian,” Moriarty prompted. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me, or no? I’d like this resolved quickly – I’m a busy man, after all.”

Sebastian let out a defeated sigh. “I hate you.”

Moriarty grinned, then crushed his lips against Sebastian’s. It was too violent and brief to really qualify as a kiss, but it still made Sebastian’s heart stutter a beat.

Moriarty bit down hard on Sebastian’s lower lip before pulling away. “If you speak to me like that again, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to you. Are we clear?”

Sebastian ran his tongue over his lip, tasting blood, and nodded. “Yeah, boss.”

Moriarty smiled and patted Sebastian’s cheek. “Good. Enjoy the rest of your night off.”

He turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Sebastian standing in the rain.


End file.
